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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29008509">windchasers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/levintiana/pseuds/levintiana'>levintiana</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>League of Legends</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Cinematic, League of Legends - Freeform, Legends of Runeterra - Freeform, Other, YASUO AND YONE WOOOOWOOOOOO, Yas, yas league of legends, yasuo - Freeform, yasuo and Yone, yasuo league of legends, yone - Freeform, yone and yasuo, yone league of legends</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:15:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,305</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29008509</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/levintiana/pseuds/levintiana</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>my take on the written version of the "kin of the stained blade" cinematic</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>windchasers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is exactly what the summary says only i've thrown in some of my own jazz to spice it up a bit because riot didn't include a certain *cough cough* death scene</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Golden fields of wheat and barley tainted by wars easily forget the names of the unfortunate souls claimed inside of them, and scorching mounds of earth pay no mind to those who must course through it. Rays of sun blinked somberly above the tallest peaks of the jagged mountainous structures, through the black haze and grey smoke. The crimson rays of the dusk fought to bring its bloody streams of orange lights through the dismal clouds just before the approaching nightfall as downpour of rain was imminent.</p><p>Cracks of thunder rolled from overhead, courtesy of the raging storm which was to follow. Helmets of fallen soldiers laid bare against the muck, as did the brave tufts of rose-grass peeking out from the ground of the desolate wasteland.</p><p>Fissured walls of rock once hosting bright lotus flowers and the pinkest of tall-grass had been reduced merely to scorched soil, and cracked stone still harbored the fire raging in its crevices. Axes and swords alike found themselves lodged into the wet soil as panicked feet of a deserter squelched through the mud puddles in desperate attempts to flee his pursuer.</p><p>Exasperated and with his breath catching in his throat, his seemingly endless run for miles had reached its conclusion. Keeping his composure, he turned around and slid his right foot back onto the damp earth to retain his grip. Left leg extended in front, he leaned forwards and reached for his katana, bracing for the strike that was to follow.</p><p>A clash of steel blades rung through the air, as did claps of relentless thunder. Flurries of wind rushed around the two brothers in an exchange of clattering swords bringing about flickers of light from where the weapons met each other.</p><p>The elder brother pushed back, standing at a distance of roughly twelve paces from his younger sibling. Drawing the second blade from its sheath, he cut it through the air bitterly to serve as a reminder that the disgraced samurai before him would face judgement for his actions, whether it be with his life or not. It didn't matter now, as they had eachother cornered and alone.</p><p>"Answer for what you have done!"</p><p>The voice cried loudly, as demanding as it was a plea. He held both swords in both trembling hands at his side, heart threatening to escape his chest; rendered utterly breathless from the chase.</p><p>"Yone," a shaky reply came. "Turn back."</p><p>He leaned forwards, holding his katana defensively in its sheathe. The breeze chilled Yasuo to his core; a tattered blue cloak draped around his shoulders provided essentially no warmth from the biting winds nipping at his bare skin. Clouds of dust and ash came rising from the scorched ground to choke them both as it drifted past on the gales.</p><p>"You have dishonored us!" Yone spat harshly, hacking his lungs up on the singed embers of the earth beneath his feet. "You swore to protect him!"</p><p>Yasuo glanced downwards to the mud dragging him down like quicksand, downwards to his disheveled boots. Crimson blood sopped off from the heels where he stood and it had leaked inside the soles. His stomach sank, realizing this was not blood of his own- but rather, the blood of the innocent men, women, and children of the land. The very land he had been painted as a murderer by his own for protecting.</p><p>Dragging his eyes back upwards to meet Yone's steel gaze fuelled by anger and regret, he could only muster an anguished response to the argument. A thousand words rushed through Yasuo's head at this moment, though merely one sentence of five words tore from his vocal chords.</p><p>"You swore to protect Ionia!"</p><p>Torrential rain bucketed down from the heavens to wetten the thick soil even further. The sick stench thick of blood carried on the wind and coarse dirt under their feet squelched with the metallic scented liquid. Radiant skies had been blackened with the disappearance of the sun behind dark clouds, and the smell of petrichor filled both of their heads as did the familiar scent of their metal blades.</p><p>"Look around you, brother! Your honor stains the ground!"</p><p>Yone angrily raised his katanas again, leaning forward to ready himself for another strike. Through gritted teeth, he forced another statement- words from his own father- out from his throat as he viciously spat and barked them.</p><p>"Better than living without it!"</p><p>Blows between the both of them had been parried several times, neither one of them relenting once in a dance of steel and flurries of wind. Yasuo repeatedly slid back on his heels, blocking Yone's cuts with his blade. He lost grip of the sword and as he leaped into the air to fall back to his feet, he retrieved it from the dirt where it had sunken upright.</p><p>Yone darted through the wind from where he held his stance to slash at his brother, and the two swordsmen continued to shield themselves from each other's furious attacks. Once he had been pushed back, Yone drew both blades overhead to form an intersection there and sliced against the breeze, to bring a vicious crack of lightning with it.</p><p>Lunging forwards at Yasuo, the energy emanating from his dual blades instantaneously shattered the younger's weapon, leaving room for Yone to slip past his brother's guard. Yasuo jerked his head to the side, failing to meet his queue to strike at him with his now-broken sword. Streams of blood immediately came gushing like a river from the fresh laceration torn across his nose and cheek.</p><p>Adrenaline at his highest, Yasuo swiftly reached for his second katana sheathed at his hip. Watching Yone come down from the air to rise to the balls of his feet after sending shockwaves through the ground, Yasuo prepared the new blade at a defensively angled stance.</p><p>Yone stood upright, both swords lowered downwards in hand at his sides. Both of their rain-slick hair as well as their saturated clothes carried on the heavy winds; the same way they carried doubt and fear in their hearts. Yone sighed deeply through his nose, and both men shaky exhaled.</p><p>"I'm sorry, brother." Yone breathed out, voice drowning in sincerity. "I will not fail you again."</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>"You haven't."</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>Yasuo wished he could have said aloud, though he did not. Instead he wistfully raised his katana higher and braced once again for the strike that was to come. Yone hadn't failed him. This had been his own doing. He'd reassure him that he had done all he could as his role as an elder brother, but with drawn weapons behind the words he refused to speak at all.</p><p>Instead, he drew his attention to the tall metal structure that lay just thirty paces away. Or the remains of it. This was the very place they had wandered as children. The very place Yasuo had first heard the word "dishonored" escape Yone's lips. And as they stood in the ruins of a once beautiful rose-gold field adorned with all the aspects of Ionian nature, they resorted to steel again. For the final time.</p><p>Yone crossed his arms in an 'X' formation and held his two swords as the cold breeze encircled around him. Yasuo stood in front of him, twenty-seven steps away now, and charged up for a final blow. Both lunged at each other in a whirlwind of chilling air and fury, for only one of them to remain standing on their feet.</p><p>There was no sound of steel clanging together, nor any struggle between the two. Rather, only the noise of wet organs and blood rang through the air and in echoed in the ears of both brothers. Blood dripped from the edge of Yasuo's sword, and he dropped to his knees to hold Yone before he hit the cold ground.</p><p>He had hunched over, bent double, tightly clutching his stomach and shaking violently. His weapon clattered to the ground, long forgotten as Yasuo held him to his chest. The bright red leakage came soaking through the thin fabric of his clothes and dripped heavily from the wide laceration cut across his abdomen. Blood came gushing from the wound and pooled on the earth beneath him, staining his hands and fingertips.</p><p>Yasuo could only hold him, arms around his back as he bled out. He held him the same way Yone would hold him as a child. Rushing to find any words to say, any at all, the only thing he wanted was to confess to his brother in his last moments.</p><p>"I'm no murderer." He whispered softly, voice trembling all the while. Yone's head was tilted downwards, facing the ground soaking in his own blood. He could taste it in his mouth and feel it coming up his throat, coughing and spluttering before finding a response to utter weakly.</p><p>"Then, why are you running?"</p><p>Yasuo's eyelids fluttered shut as his sweat and the aggressive downpour of rain dripped from his hairline and trailed down his cheeks. Yone's chest heaved greatly as he struggled to breathe. The pool of blood beneath him turned to rivers as it leaked into the soil and merged with the puddles of water, dying them a sickly shade of crimson. If Yasuo slid his foot over the mud, red water would emerge from it. He almost felt like getting sick himself.</p><p>Why was he running? It didn't matter now. Yone was fading fast. It was only there in that moment in which he began to feel the sting from the open gash in his face, and felt its warmth come dripping from his cheek. He could hardly smell Yone's blood over his own as it filled his nose, spluttering on it himself. Yone's stomach twitched as he reached for one of Yasuo's trembling hands.</p><p>"Yasuo," he muttered, his deep voice hoarse and cracked as he struggled to draw any breath at all. He shakily clasped the back of his blood-stained hand over his mouth to stifle his own small cries and pleas, smearing the warm red liquid across his lips and cheek as he did. Yone stared up at him, silent, and the muscles in his jaw tensed as he struggled to keep his eyes open.</p><p>Yone's chest convulsed as disturbingly muffled gargles of agony came writhing from his froth-corrupted lungs, allowing blood to pool in his mouth and for the mess to come dribbling from his bottom lip and his chin with every splutter as he choked. Yasuo held him across his lap and grasped his hand as he coughed relentlessly, both eyelids fluttering all the while.</p><p>He laid Yone across his lap, supporting the back of his head with one hand and reaching to hold the other down on his mortal wound with their shared held hand. Before Yone could glance down at himself and see the bloody mess, Yasuo tore a piece of his own raggedy shirt off with his teeth and gently blanketed it over his lower half so Yone would not see it, for his own sake.</p><p>"Don't look." Yasuo said, voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry."</p><p>Yone could feel only the rain pattering against him, on his forehead, his hair, on his body, and could see the blood on Yasuo's hands. His wet hair thrown back into a bun had loosened and it clung to his forehead, as did the damp robes clinging to his cold body.</p><p>He stared into the soul of the dark sky above him, lost in a blank and empty state of mind as the corners of his eyes filled with tears. Tears not of sadness, but tears belonging to the restless eyes of a distraught man who could not bring himself even to blink.</p><p>Yone took his final glance of the world, staring aimlessly into the inky black void and bright orange skyline lying beyond the horizon. Yasuo brought his eyes fixated on his brother's wounds to meet his dull gaze. Weak and fatigued, he could make out the dark violet marks under them; clashes of amber with deep purples and blues. Neither of them had slept for days, as there was only the hunt to bring Yasuo home.</p><p>With his thumb and ring finger, Yasuo gently closed his eyes and slowly loosened his grip on Yone's hand, which had gone cold. It felt wrong to cry. After all, was he, himself not the one with his brother's blood on his sword?</p><p>He quietly rose to his feet as if to not disrupt Yone's pale slumber, and softly lowered his shoulders and head to the ground. He laid him down on his back and retrieved his two discarded katanas to place back in their respective sheaths on Yone's hip. Reaching for the small canteen bound to his waist by a rope, he removed the wooden cork from the top to gently pour over Yone's mouth. The blood cleaned away from his face within seconds, and the winds dried the wet skin.</p><p>Yasuo drew his sword from the ground and sheathed it once more. Stepping away from Yone's body, he turned on his heels to walk away. Just as he did, he felt a wistful twinge of regret on the breeze that carried on. He carried on walking.</p><p>Dawn-kissed skies had always promised in bringing the deepest crimsons and brightest of magentas to come streaming through the early morning clouds, though Yasuo could not stomach the thought of embracing the sun's warmth again. Was he deserving of it, after he had his only brother, his only friend, bleed out from his wounds in his lap?</p><p>He'd disagree, though on the same winds he felt something else. A nudge of forgiveness. A pang of absolution from his guilt. Even in death, Yone had been forgiveful. And that was a debt Yasuo would never be able to repay.</p>
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